


a sun-dappled cure for my loneliness

by aerynlallaboso



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: F/F, brief corvo appearance, i am... gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 07:17:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8614723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerynlallaboso/pseuds/aerynlallaboso
Summary: Her crush begins, like many things in Dunwall, with an explosion.





	

**Author's Note:**

> the amount of Bad em ships in this tag lately is a travesty and im Here to remedy it. i briefly teared up writing this 
> 
> actual notes: title is taken from 'death in the month of songs', an old serkonan song found in dh2. you can bet your ass my wyman is non-binary and i've attempted to preserve the lack of pronouns from corroded man in this fic.

Her crush begins, like many things in Dunwall, with an explosion.

 

They are both fourteen, the young Empress and one of her closest friends, both too young to hold their own with a sword but old enough to know the exact intentions of the men who have surrounded their carriage. They are alone in it. Emily’s Royal Protector - her father, so she’s whispered to Alexi - is back in Dunwall Tower, and the carriage’s guards are dead, and a torrent of gunshots is still ringing in Alexi’s ears when the pitted and smoking ball lands by her feet.

 

She stares at the grenade for a second, two seconds, and then picks it up and hurls it back out of the carriage window. The resulting detonation is deafening, disorienting - she has to shake her head to clear it. Emily is pulling on her arm; she goes with it, and comes back to herself as her feet hit the ground.

 

A man launches himself from the forward gate that has hemmed in their carriage, the ugliest expression on his face, walking toward the two young girls. “You little  _ bitch _ ,” he yells. His voice cracks. “You killed Tommy!”

 

“Emily,” Alexi whispers to the Empress. “We should-”

 

There is a loose railway brace on this section of carriage line, a short step to their left. The man gets closer, close enough to chance a blow at Alexi, who ducks, and Emily Kaldwin heaves on the brace with all the strength of her fourteen-year-old arms. It comes free; she swings it and hits the man in the gut. He cries out.

 

It’s almost terrifying, what happens then - Emily’s brown eyes are cold, like her father’s, as she beats a man at least ten years older than her senseless, until he has a bloody nose and two black eyes and one of his teeth is shattered across the edge of the railway brace. The other men, the ones who came here to kill Emily, are gaping at her. Some of them still have loaded pistols, but none of them fire.

 

Emily only stops when the man begs her. She turns to Alexi, breathing heavily, and then she smiles, and the drops of blood on her face turn to red jewels sparkling in the dim sunlight with it.

 

They are ‘rescued’ by men from Dunwall Tower shortly. The rest of the conspirators lose hands, tongues, ears, and Alexi is personally thanked by the Royal Protector with a warmth she’s never seen from him before. She is cited for her loyalty and bravery in a hopeless situation; people stop calling Emily ‘the Child Empress’; Alexi dreams of Emily’s beautiful smile, spattered with blood.

 

~

 

At sixteen, Alexi briefly harbours aspirations of becoming the Royal Protector’s apprentice, but a few sessions of training with Corvo himself put those to rest. She can be good enough with the sword, someday, but she doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to move like he does, to see into the shadows and drag Emily’s enemies out into the light.

 

She tells him that. He smiles at her, and tells her to try for the City Watch.

 

“The City Watch has more snakes than the whole of Pandyssia,” Alexi says, folding her arms.

 

Corvo covers his mouth with one large hand, stifling a laugh like Emily does when someone flubs their court greeting. “That may be so,” he agrees. “But if you make it, you can be my man on the inside. We’ll root them out, one by one, and the Empress will be safer than ever with you as her lieutenant. How does that sound?”

 

At eighteen, Alexi Mayhew becomes a member of the City Watch. Some might say she is still riding a high of undeserved glory after her single act of courage four years ago, but those responsible for her commissioning know exactly how hard she has worked over those four years to improve her skills at swordplay, at leadership, at all the things she needs to help protect Emily Kaldwin’s smile. And serve the city of Dunwall, of course. Alexi is nothing if not at good at multi-tasking.

 

There is a ceremony, and the Empress presents her with her commission personally. Her hand, soft but with the forming calluses of a swordswoman on her small palm, sends tingles across Alexi’s skin when she shakes it.

 

~

 

She knocks on the door of the Empress’s chambers and hears her say “Come in!”, and is shortly faced with the sight of Emily in a state of half-undress.

 

“ _ Emily _ ,” Alexi hisses, trying not to go pink. She is at least wearing underwear and the bottom half of a court-appropriate outfit, black satin-sheened pants that hug her long legs flatteringly, but- “Why did you tell me to come in when you’re not decent?”

 

Emily adjusts the waistband of her pants and begins to unfold the navy silk shirt laid on her bed. “I knew it would be you or one of my maids,” she says matter-of-factly. “Now, Alexi, there’s something I want to talk to you about. How many years have you been a lieutenant in the City Watch now?”

 

“Uh - I was commissioned nearly five years ago.” Em slides the shirt on one arm at a time, slim but muscled limbs filling out the sleeves. The fruits of her training with her father. She might be better with a blade than Alexi is, at this rate. “You know that, Emily. Why? Have I been complained about? I don’t think I’ve done anything recently that would warrant a dressing-down from the Empress herself.”

 

“Don’t get cute,” Emily says, grinning. Alexi struggles to maintain her composure watching the woman she’s had a crush on since she was fourteen buttoning her shirt, olive skin and toned abdominal muscles that are very out of place on someone who supposedly spends her days listening to the complaints of Parliament from a comfortable chair disappearing beneath a curtain of dark blue material. “This isn’t a complaint. You’re one of the most exceptional officers in the Watch, and it isn’t just me saying it. Your Captain. Your fellow officers. My father.”

 

She has to quash a small flicker of pride at the mention of Corvo’s praise. “Then, what is this about?”

 

Emily does up her last button. “Captain Mayhew,” she says solemnly.

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

“You. Captain Alexi Mayhew of the City Watch. I like the sound of it.”

 

“I’m-” She deserves it. She knows she does. And it’ll be more responsibility, more men to command in Emily’s service, more opportunities to root out corruption in the Watch, but she can’t help saying sheepishly, “I’m a little young for it, don’t you think?”

 

The Empress gives a very un-Empress-like snort. “Skill before age, Alexi. If you can do the job, who cares? You were better at protecting me at fourteen than half of the rest will ever be. You’re ready for it.”

 

Alexi bites her lip, then smiles. “I am. Thank you, Your Imperial Majesty. It’s an honour.”

 

She isn’t entirely prepared for Emily to rush her and throw her arms around her after she says that, nor is she prepared for Emily to nestle her head in the crook of her neck. She smells of fine perfume and metal-polishing oil right now, and she is very warm - Alexi allows herself the relief of a blush where Emily can’t see her. “I’m so glad I have you to count on,” Em murmurs. “Thank you.”

 

She adds as she draws back, “I can’t convince you to spare some time from your Watch duties to fend off the million lordlings who keep presenting themselves at court as my suitors, can I? They’re so boring. All the same, too, in stiff suits with slicked-back hair and smelling of money. I’d rather die than marry any of them.”

 

“I would if I could, but someone just offered me a promotion to Captain,” Alexi says, and dodges the fan Emily throws at her.

 

~

 

When they are both twenty-three, Emily meets Wyman, and Alexi’s heart is dragged by its heels through the Wrenhaven, hitting every sharp rock and puddle of krust spit on the bottom as it goes. She’s very happy for her best friend, of course she is, it makes her spirits soar to see Emily laughing and joking with someone who makes her happy, and yet.

 

Wyman is a noble. Wyman comes from a better family than Alexi’s - although only just - and is beautiful in a different way than Emily, brown skin and hair that curls neatly under a rounded jaw and a smile that is dazzling when it comes, as it does frequently. Emily’s is lovelier, Alexi thinks, and she has no doubt Wyman would agree, which is the problem - Wyman is in love with Emily, and so is Alexi.

 

She stands guard over one of their first dates herself. Her back stays ramrod-straight the whole time, pressed up against the wall as she imagines what things would’ve been like if she’d just  _ told  _ Emily years ago. Maybe if she’d told her the instant she figured it out, when she was fourteen and a half and realised that she liked her best friend the same way her mother always asked her if she liked boys. Maybe if she’d told her that day Emily promoted her to Captain, drawn back from that hug and taken Emily’s face in her hands and kissed her. In her mind’s eye, she can hear Em’s small, surprised gasp, feel her flush against her as Alexi brushes a stray strand of hair away from her cheek.

 

Emily laughs from inside the dining room at something Wyman has said. Alexi closes her eyes and curses herself for an absolute fool.

 

At least she won’t have to see Emily marry one of those stiff-suited lords, she decides. At least Emily is in love with someone who isn’t a man, at least she might’ve had a chance in some other lifetime. At least her best friend is happy. But she can’t help being brusque with Wyman sometimes, when the young noble waltzes past and tries to crack a joke at her on the way to visit the Empress’s chambers.

 

~

 

It comes to a head six months after Wyman enters both of their lives, on a day that Alexi ever after describes as heart-stopping in a myriad of different ways.

 

First, she is summoned to the Empress’s rooms again in the morning. The door has been left ajar, and Alexi leans over to peer through the gap. She recoils at the sight of Emily sitting on her bed with Wyman beside her - their hands are clasped, Wyman’s face is scrunched into an expression encompassing worry and sorrow and tenderness at once, and there are tear-tracks on Emily’s cheeks.

 

“Alexi,” Emily calls. She pushes the door open a little more, cautiously, and Emily beckons her, removing her hand from Wyman’s to wipe her face. “I’m sorry, Alexi, I should’ve - Wyman, would you leave us? Please.”

 

Wyman rises from the bed and says, “Of course. I’ll see you later,” and nods to Alexi, who is utterly confused and concerned by this turn of events. Was it Wyman who made Emily cry? What in the Void is she here for?

 

She takes a seat opposite Emily in the chair before her desk, but before she can say anything, Emily gets up and takes her by the hands, gently resettling her on the bed in the position Wyman has recently left warm. The closeness, the touch of Em’s hands, leaves her nervous, and none of her bubbling emotions are calmed when Emily starts to speak.

 

“Alexi,” she says again. “Alexi. We’ve been friends for so long, haven’t we? You saved my life when we were just children. I can only imagine how many times you’ve saved it as part of the City Watch.” She sniffs. “You’ve done so much for me, and I don’t think I’ve ever managed to tell you how important you are. To me. You’re my best friend.” Her hands are trembling, slightly. “You’re my best friend, and I love you.”

 

“I love you, too,” Alexi tells her, and she can’t control the burning ache in her chest at the sound of Emily telling her she loves her. Even if it’s only as a friend.  _ This can be enough _ . “Emily, I-”

 

There’s another long sniff. “You don’t understand,” Emily says. Her brown eyes roll up to the ceiling, as if she’s trying not to cry again. “I mean - that’s not what I’m trying to say. I should’ve told you so long ago, I just thought you might - make fun of me, or something, when we were little, or if you felt the same way then someone might find out and try to use you against me like they used me after mother died-” She breaks off. “Alexi.”

 

Her heart is beating half a million times a second. “What  _ do  _ you mean, Emily?”

 

“I  _ love you _ ,” Emily says. “Like I love Wyman, only different, and I’ve loved you longer and I hope that we can still be best friends if you don’t love me back and-”

 

Alexi wants to kiss her, the most beautiful woman in the world with tears shining on her cheeks like those droplets of blood so long ago, so she does, and Emily kisses her back, and Alexi only pulls away from her soft lips when she has the sudden fear that she didn’t completely close the door when she came in.

 

She did. “I love you, too, Em,” she whispers. “Since you - beat that man to a pulp when we were fourteen.”

 

Emily laughs, the most undignified little giggle that Alexi has long held to be the loveliest sound in the world. “And I might’ve loved you since you threw that grenade out of our carriage,” she says. “Or maybe it was when you whacked that man with a stick. You remember the one? It was just before father came riding in with the City Watch. Our heroes. Except we’d already saved ourselves.”

 

“I do remember.” She smiles, and dares to take one of Emily’s hands, stroke her palm with her thumb. The motion reminds her. “But… Emily, I - you told me this, but what about Wyman?” An uncomfortable thought occurs to her. “You didn’t break up with Wyman, did you? You’ve seemed so happy these past months. I would never want to be the cause of-”

 

“I told Wyman that I love you, this morning,” Emily says. “And Wyman told me to tell you. We’ve not broken up.” She hesitates. “I know… it’s not usual, Alexi, the idea of being with two people-”

 

For perhaps the tenth time in their emotionally-charged conversation, she is interrupted, on this occasion by a knock at the door. “Come!” Emily calls, and Wyman’s face appears around the door-frame with a tentative smile affixed. Paradoxically, the smile grows wider when Wyman’s dark eyes fix on Alexi’s hand on Emily’s.

 

“You’re settled, then,” Wyman says to Emily, and then turns to the bewildered Alexi. “Captain Mayhew.”

 

“Wyman,” Alexi replies. She pauses, deliberating whether to remove her hand, but decides to leave it there. “I’m not sure… what your intentions were in encouraging Emily to confess to me,” and she can’t stop speaking so  _ formally _ towards Wyman, even now. “And I’m not sure where all of this goes from here on, either. You love Emily as much as I do.”

 

The very last thing she expects Wyman to do is to step towards the bed and lean over and press a kiss to her forehead, leaving her completely speechless. “And she loves both of us,” Wyman says, glancing at Emily, who is wiping the rest of the tear tracks from her face. “I already have to share Emily with an entire Empire, Alexi. Someone like you, who probably knows her better than I and has a strong sword arm to help me keep her safe - I can’t fault her choices.”

 

Wyman smiles again. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere to be.” Another forehead kiss is bestowed upon Em before the person who Alexi had up til this moment thought of as her rival is closing the door to the Empress’s chambers again, in and out like a flash.

 

“Well,” Emily says.

 

Alexi looks at her, words still caught in her throat.

 

“Like I said, I know it’s not usual, Alexi, but I  _ am  _ the Empress,” her best friend, her love, continues. “If I can’t set trends, then who can?”

 

~

 

It begins with a bang; it ends here, with Alexi carding her fingers through Emily’s dark hair, pulled down for the night, listening to her snore quietly in time with the faint sound of boats on the river barely reaching them through their open window. Wyman is asleep on a futon laid at the foot of Emily’s bed, still holding an open book that was engrossing enough to be read until the last moment of unconsciousness.

 

“I love you,” Alexi says, very quietly, into Emily’s ear, and kisses her cheek. Emily snorts in her sleep in response; Alexi has to restrain a giggling fit. “I love you,” she repeats, and closes her eyes.


End file.
